


Shattered Glasses

by Scmnz



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Cliffhanger, First Person, Gen, One Shot, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 07:37:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9592088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scmnz/pseuds/Scmnz
Summary: Strange people are in the most secret of the palace's file rooms, and they are looking for Drumknott. Why are they there?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing anything large in first person, so it may sound a bit awkward. Thank you for bearing with me. If you have any suggestions on how to improve this, feel free to let me know in the comments. I hope you enjoy this!

I glide soundlessly through this room. It is the most carefully hidden file room, guarded by many secret tunnels and traps. Only a few people know where it is, and I am the only one who comes here with any frequency. It is like my world of peace, nothing but paper, all perfectly neat and in its proper place. It is soothing. I shift through, putting one file away, selecting another. One file catches my eye. I was not asked to bring this one upstairs, but it seems likely his lordship will want it. I take the file.

 

There is a sudden noise, which is completely wrong. It should _not_ be here. Only I am allowed in these rooms, and I am never loud. Someone else must be here.

 

Would it be another clerk? But why would they come here? I peer around the cabinet. I see a man in a bright red coat wearing fancy shoes. This is no servant’s dress. It looks expensive so maybe an assassin. An assassin could make its past the traps. But the clothes are too flashy and flamboyant to be an assassin’s, and the man was walking too loudly. Whoever this man is he is dangerous, or he could not make it here unharmed. I feel anger rise inside me along with fear. This is not his place, it is mine.

 

I hear him whispering to someone outside the door. He thinks he is being quiet. Ha! He knows nothing about silence. He tells his companions to look for me. Why? I am just a secretary.

 

Four men join him in the room. These men are dressed similarly to the first, but he is clearly in charge. They lock the door. There is no escape, and no hiding place that will last long enough. If they search the room thoroughly enough, they will eventually find me. Fighting them isn’t an option either. I am small and week. I am not a dark clerk. I was trained at the guild of scribes and accountants, not the assassin’s guild.

 

I may be defenseless but there is hope if I play this smart. I am always perfectly punctual. In all my years as a secretary I have only been late once, when I had to buy new pencils after Mr. Lipwig stole my last one. I am supposed to have these files up to the oval office in ten minutes. If I am so much as a minute late, Lord Vetinari will know something is wrong. This room is four minutes from the office if you know the route. So help should be here in seventeen minutes at most.

 

I am able to calculate all of this within seconds, but seventeen minutes will probably be too late. What can I possibly do, since I know they will catch me before anyone comes looking for me. I’m on my own here. I cannot fight, but perhaps I can leave clues, so that no matter what happens to me, he will be able to find me. I must work out what traces I can leave.

 

 

I reach into the closest filing cabinet and mix the files out of their correct order. I even move some files into the wrong drawer, although it makes me shudder to do so. This is absolutely unlike me, so it will inform anyone who knows me that something is horribly wrong. I move silently, doing the same to the other cabinets, causing chaos as discreetly as I can. Surely, they won’t check all the cabinets before dealing with me, and if they did, help would arrive while they were still here. I do not scramble the files I am to take upstairs. That would be far too obvious and alert the intruders to my plan. As I continue messing up the filing I shudder at this heresy I am committing.

 

The moved files will tell the world that something was done to me, but it will not be enough for them to know who hurt me, or where to look for me. I need to do more. I grab a file on roses. It is not needed, it has nothing to do with the cities current problems. I find another folder about that tannery accident two years ago. The red dye stained the nearby streets for months before anyone bothered to deal with it. I find a brief essay on blood clotting.

 

These documents can hide among all the others in my arms. They are different from each other, and so they are not too obvious. They can be signs about the crimson coats these men wear.

 

They are getting closer to the corridor I’m in. There isn’t much time left before they reach me. I scurry silently. They don’t know I’ve heard them. They are trying to “sneak” but they are making noise. I may have time to grab one last clue.

 

Ah, here is that collection of information most people would consider worthless, even silly. That type of person doesn’t see the complexities of the city. Any kind of information could be needed one day, just as it is needed today.

 

What I’m after should be the eighth folder in this drawer. It’s been undisturbed for years, unused and unneeded. I designed the organization system so I know where to find it. I holds a list of shoe brands, and the designs of their products. I need to find the distinctive shoes of the men hunting me. It may be a long shot but it could help.

 

I pull open the drawer and it shrieks unexpectedly. The metal across it’s rails seem to scream The sides of the cabinet pop thunderously. In my mind I groan along with the noise. So much for subtlety. The world really needs less flimsy filing drawers which would not make such noise. I hear the footsteps running, the men know exactly where to find their pray now.

 

I flip through the folder of shoes, accidentially bending the pages in my haste. Even though I hate damaging them it will be another sign of my distress. There! A picture that matches the men’s shoes. I move it to the top of the folder, out of place with the others. I slide it in with the other folders I carry, praying it will not attract any unwanted attention.

 

They are almost upon me. I resist the urge to whirl around. I’m not supposed to have heard the men. If they know I detected them, they might look for anything I’ve left for lord Vetinari or Commander Vimes to find. I see them out of the corner of my eye. The men charge forward, making no more attempts at silence. I spin, and am slammed into the metal behind me. The files in my arms fall.

 

Two large men circle around me, the leader is pinning me to the wall. One man must be standing guard. One of them is missing. Where is he? A fist is aimed at my face. I am trapped and cannot dodge it, but I try. It slams into my face and my glasses fall to the ground. As if this situation wasn’t one sided enough, now I cannot see a thing.

 

An idea comes to me. As I stumble from the force of the blow I aim my foot at the fallen glasses. It lands, and I hear the frames snap. The glass crunches. Even if they see through me and take the folders I carry, they cannot possibly clean up all the tiny fragments of glass. If they try, his lordship will have sent help in time for it to arrive. And if they don’t pick up the glass, it will prove that I was attacked. I smile despite the pain of my face.

 

A few more punches hit my face, my chest and my ribs. I try to think clearly through the pain, but panic sets in. I slam forward, taking the men off guard. I escape my captors grasp and run forward. I cannot see but it doesn’t matter. I know every inch of this room. The door is locked, but maybe I can buy a tiny bit more time. Help should be here soon.

 

I frantically run, taking a turn into a different isle of filing cabinets. The missing fifth man grabs me and presses a cloth to my face. All I have time to think is before everything fades to black is “Gods, I hope it’s chloroform and not some deadly poison.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry about the cliffhanger. I might write more, but i'm really unsure about that because it somewhat felt like this was where the story should end, and there are other things I'd rather write right now. I do hope you enjoyed it anyway.


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